Post

Sjevre wrote:

RP

Pettri says proudly; "Well, that may be your opinion, I was actually voted the most beautiful man at my university in my twenties." Pettri then shuts up, thinking they are in a trap. He lets his designated SIS operative do the rest of the talking. The "Small redhead", who's name apparently is Ukhov, raises his hand in a calming gesture, signaling for his entourage to refrain from any aggressive actions. His expression remains neutral yet determined as he addresses Putler. "Putler, our intention in coming here was not to provoke or challenge you," Ukhov states, going further. "We seek only the truth and a peaceful resolution to our differences." After he too has been searched only questions and a hearing device has been found. "This is all part of asking questions about those strange telephone conversations that we also want to know the better about." Ukhov states, showing no worry on his face. He further says; “Disregard the Home Secretary with this trap.” He sounds extremely convincing. "He does his job as a member of the government. He has to do this. He doesn't come here to play games." He tries to walk forward, but is stopped. He looks around until he realizes that it is extremely suspicious. "I will repeat Pettri's question; do you know who Usjkov is?" Ukhov says with a smirk. "We have a proposal about him."

RP
Putler's smirk widens at Pettri's retort, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Ah, yes, the most beautiful man at university," he quips, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Quite the achievement, I'm sure."

Turning his attention to Ukhov, Putler listens intently to his words, his expression unreadable as he considers the implications of their unexpected visit. As Ukhov speaks of seeking the truth and a peaceful resolution, Putler's gaze hardens with skepticism, though a glimmer of curiosity flickers in his eyes. He refrains from making any hasty moves. "Seeking the truth, you say?" he echoes, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Funny, I seem to recall that truth is a rare commodity in your line of work."

When Ukhov mentions the strange telephone conversations and their interest in Usjkov, Putler's interest is piqued. Leaning forward, he regards Ukhov with a calculating gaze. "Usjkov, you say?" he muses, his voice low and contemplative. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while. Is it that guy who once wrestled a bear with his bare hands and won? Oh no, maybe it's the other one."

You see, Usjkov always had a flair for the dramatic. Always popping up at the most inconvenient times, like a bad penny," Putler quips, a sardonic grin playing at the corners of his lips. "But underneath that smooth exterior, there was always something... shady about him. Wouldn't you agree?"

He chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with mockery. "You know, they say Usjkov could spin a tale so tall, even the tallest towers in Sjevre would blush with envy." Putting on a show of exaggerated seriousness, Putler continues, "But as for any real substance to his claims, well, that's another matter entirely."

With a theatrical flourish, Putler launches into a mocking tirade about Usjkov, recounting tales of his past misdeeds with thinly veiled amusement. "Usjkov once told that Massange was in a coma," Putler jests, a gleam of malice in his eyes. "Can you imagine? In a coma! And yet, just moments later, his own country's agent, Zacherelev, accidentally let slip over the phone that Massange had passed away."

He leans forward, his eyes narrowing with intent. "Tell me, Ukhov, what exactly is your proposal regarding Usjkov?" he inquires, his voice low and dangerous. "And more importantly, what do you hope to gain from it?"

Meanwhile, as the conversation unfolds, Valkyrie and Specter exchange a subtle glance, their silent communication speaking volumes. With a nod from Putler, Valkyrie discreetly takes a seat at the table, her presence a silent reminder of the power and authority she wields in Putler's inner circle.

Specter, ever the silent observer, remains standing, his cloak billowing around him like a shroud of darkness. With a flick of his wrist, he produces a small device from within the folds of his cloak, its purpose known only to him.